Unhappy Anniversary
by Trunkszgrl
Summary: Another revised ficcie! I'm on a roll, keep your fingers crossed! Anyway, this is the sequel to Turn Me On. Song: Unhappy Anniversary, Artist: Vitamin C again, Characters: BV duh :P Oh ya, it takes place AFTER the Cell Games!


**A/N:** Yup, you guessed it! This story's also newly-revised! And no, I'm not simply doing editing simply for lack of anything better to do. I actually plan on posting the next chappy to DCT this Sunday, if the network I'm using doesn't go down like it did earlier this week...grumble, gripe and grope...of Vegeta ; Eh, follow the drill and I shall be ultimately pleased! KARMA, people...take responsibility and leave a review!

**Unhappy Anniversary**

"You're absolutely sure you'll be okay on your own tonight, Honey?" Mrs. Briefs gushed, pulling on her favorite mink-trimmed overcoat and peering at her daughter in concern.  
  
"Yes, Mom, I'll be fine," Bulma replied with a roll of her eyes. Would her mother never again be convinced of her stability? It was already the 20th or greater time that she'd asked the damned question.  
  
"Are you positive that you don't want your father and me to take Trunks with us?" persisted the woman, eyes sweeping up the staircase to where her grandson dozed peacefully.  
  
"Mother, Trunks is **my** son; I think I can handle him. Besides, it's you and Dad's big dinner with the president of Empire Electronics. You can't have a noisy little Saiyan child jeopardizing the merger. We'll be just great alone tonight, trust me."  
  
"But sweetie...it's _that_ time again. Last year you didn't take it so well. I can't help but worry..."  
  
"If you keep on bugging me about the empty past, you're gonna be unfashionably late," scolded Bulma, shooing her worrisome dam out the door.  
  
"All right then, if you're completely positive. See you tomorrow, Dearest," conceded the blonde, finally bouncing out of the house with her husband in tow. "Don't forget to give Trunksy my love and kisses!"

"Yeah, yeah," Bulma grumbled, waving obligingly to her parents as she shut the entryway. The woman leaned back against the heavy piece of wood and breathed a sigh of relief, hearing the hover car pull from the drive. Peace at last.

_You ask me how am I?_

_  
Well I'm still standing, aren't I?_

_  
That's somethin', that's one thing,_

_  
That's gone my way.  
_

An hour after the famous inventor and his wife's departing, Bulma curled herself comfortably onto the front-room's couch to read through her favorite romance novel. It was a medieval one where the prince and beggar-girl (who had chanced the misfortune of filching his pocket in particular) met, fought, fell in love and lived happily ever after, forever. She sighed and closed the book, not even bothering to mark her place...it was sad, but she knew it by heart.  
  
Bulma set down the well-worn and well-loved paperback and walked into the kitchen, searching for something to distract her from the time. Unfortunately, as she strode over to the refrigerator, her cerulean eyes glanced unbidden towards the digital clock on the stovetop. It read 8:54 PM. The woman stood staring blankly at the timepiece for well over 15 minutes, only snapping from her stupor when a shrill cry broke the all-consuming silence. She groaned, immediately realizing that her young son was awake. _The child sleeps less than his father!_ she thought, her lips forming a sad smile.

  
_It's so hard to go on_

_  
Like everything's okay now._

_  
When inside, I still cry_

_  
For yesterday..._

Up in little Trunks' room, a mother gently rocked her tot back into his dreams. Bulma gave her now-dozing offspring a proud smile, idly smoothing away a stray lock of his unruly lavender hair. She stood up from the ancient rocking chair and set the boy back into his crib, eyes sweeping over the youth in admiration. He was drop-dead gorgeous already, just like his father.  
  
When she was confident that her son was asleep once more, the woman padded down the stairs and into the kitchen. She jumped when another sudden screaming broke the peace. Grabbing her heart as it threatened to pump from her breast, she recognized with a nervous laugh that it was simply the telephone. Bulma raced to pick up the receiver, praying that its noise hadn't awakened the toddler.  
  
"M-moshi?" she stuttered nervously, eyes flitting up the stairway distractedly.  
  
"Heyla Bulma! It's Chi Chi!" proclaimed a forcedly-cheerful voice from the earpiece.  
  
"Oh...hey Chi Chi, what's up?" Bulma breathed in relief. At least her mother had yet to call her up and demand to speak to Chibi-Trunks, she wasn't fond of the idea of waking the child so quickly after having successfully put him to bed.  
  
"Oh nothing really, Goten's asleep already and Gohan's doing his homework. What about you?"  
  
"That's nice, there's not much going on here either."  
  
"Really? But tonight's...ah..."  
  
"Chi, tonight is another Saturday night that finds me all alone. Nothing more, nothing less," Bulma sighed exasperatedly.  
  
"Oh...okay, if you want to phrase it that way. I was wondering if maybe you wanted me to come over for a while? I could easily be ready in only a few minutes, and Gohan can keep an eye on Goten for the time-being."  
  
"That's not necessary, Chi Chi. I'm fine." She seemed to be saying that a lot lately.  
  
"Are you sure? You know, it's really not a problem or anything..."  
  
"Yes. Yes, I am. I've never been better, please believe me."  
  
"All right then, if you say so. I'd better go help Gohan with his history work. I'll talk to you later, okay?"  
  
"Yeah, sure."

"And Bulma..." there was a hesitant pause, then, "...just promise me you'll take care of yourself, please? We're all worried about you and Trunks, you know."

Bulma bit her lip and hung up the phone, unable to respond to Chi Chi's concern as she tried desperately to hold in her new wave of grief.

_This is my unhappy anniversary,_

_  
But I lie, sayin' it's just another day._

_  
This is my unhappy anniversary, oh...  
_

At 9:37 p.m., Bulma Briefs once more attempted to use distraction to avoid the painful memories that threatened to force her into new tears. She dropped again onto the couch and picked up the oversized remote, hoping and pleading with Kami above that something good was on. Unfortunately, the first station she flipped to could only boast re-runs of The Brady Bunch.  
  
**"Marsha, I'm in love with you and would never purposely do anything to make you upset. I'm so sorry..."**  
  
Bulma scowled and groaned in disgust, quickly flipping the channel to Animal Planet.  
  
**"Wolves mate for life. The are the epitome of "Until Death Do Us Part" and, should one partner die, the remaining mate grieves in a fashion unlike any other species..."  
**  
The human growled and again changed the TV station, this time to FOX.  
  
**"Coming up next: She hates him, he hates her...that is until they find out that they are perfect for one another! "You've Got Mail," the critically acclaimed romantic-comedy, is on now..."  
**  
Bulma had to suppress a animalistic scream as she shut off the television, but her reserve did not stop a violent dent from puncturing one of the walls next to the boob-tube; remote now snugly lodged within the plaster.  
  
"Is everyone in the whole damn world out to get me tonight?!" she demanded, throwing her hands up disbelievingly and stalking from the room.

_I know it's so stupid_

_  
To still feel broken-hearted._

_  
I wonder if you know_

_  
Just how much I hurt?_

Bulma stomped quietly up to her room, mindful of the Saiyan youth sleeping just down the hallway. She flopped down onto her bed only to rise up off of it less than 5 seconds later; the mattress somehow still smelled of...him.  
  
"It's time to face the truth, Bulma," she ordered herself irritably. "Today is exactly three years from the day you and Vegeta created Trunks. You can't run from it forever, the proof is less than 10 feet away."  
  
The agony of this realization overwhelmed the woman. But Bulma somehow managed to hold back her tears as she hurriedly strode from her room. She re-entered the kitchen for the third time that night, once again searching for something to ease the unbearable pain in her chest. Her pale and shaky palms pulled away from her sides and grabbed the knobs of the cabinets above the fridge. She yanked them open and pulled out a bottle of rum.  
  
The woman uncorked the liquor and set a shot glass on the table, pouring the beverage into it as she sobbed dryly. She held up the cup in a toasting gesture and whispered, "To you, Vegeta. Damn you to hell for causing me this pain." before downing the drink in one gulp. Bulma's face screwed up in distaste as the bitter liquid slid down her throat, burning terribly and nearly causing her to choke it back up. She wasn't fond of alcohol, but was beyond desperate for a diversion from her anguish. It'd been a long time since she was last truly drunk, and tonight seemed as good an evening as any other to break the abstinence.  
  
Bulma filled her tumbler with more of the disgusting fluid and brought it to her lips, reciting her salute again and swallowing the liquor.

_I drink up, and think up_

_  
A toast to numb the hours._

_  
To get through, without you,_

_  
Is so hard today..._

After about 8 more shots taken in simultaneous order, Bulma was drowning in her drunkenness. But the rum had done its job; she was no longer reliving the hurt from years ago. She was numb; her mind was fuzzy, her throat was sore...and she was still thirsty. She grabbed the bottle and again turned it upside-down over her glass, yet the container was empty.

Frustration mounting once more at how even the alcohol had abandoned her, Bulma hurled the bottle at the kitchen wall. It exploded into a million shards that skidded raucously over the linoleum tile, but the screaming from its impact was nothing compared to the frightened wailing that promptly accompanied the noise. She did not notice Trunks' cries, however.

'_Cause it's my unhappy anniversary,_

_  
But I lie, sayin' it's just another day!_

_  
This is my unhappy anniversary, oh...  
_

Bulma stumbled into the living room and picked up her book anew, watching as the words blurred together and swirled around the pages. Some distant part of her wondered if it was the booze that distorted her sight, or if it was due to the hot streams of tears she could now feel coursing their way down her face.  
  
"Why couldn't Vhegheetah be like th' guy 'n here 'nd stay?" she asked loudly in a heavily-slurred voice. "I nehed you, Vhegheetah, come bahck to me..."

_Wishin' you were here, same time next year..._

_  
Wishin' you were here, same time next year..._

The woman fell back onto the couch as the world began to spin around her, her head throbbing with a mixture of intoxication and the continued squalling of someone's annoying baby. Bulma closed her eyes and unsuccessfully struggled to regain some of her senses, feeling like she was slipping into an oblivion that sought to crush her skull. When she finally reopened them, the large grandfather clock across from her seat noisily chimed 11:45.

"SHUT UP!" she screamed at both the clock and child, whimpering and pulling her legs close beneath her chin. "Just shut up...please..."

_And now it's near midnight,_

_  
A few more minutes and I'll return to,_

_  
Get back to, my former life..._

"Vegeta..." Bulma moaned helplessly, the blackness pressing her into unconsciousness.

Trunks' cries still echoed through the house, becoming steadily more desperate and neglected.

_Pretending our ending was not so bad_

_  
I know that it's time to escape you,_

_  
Well until next year..._

"Woman..." breathed a figure cloaked in darkness. "Bulma, what have you done to yourself now?"  
  
Vegeta stepped from his hiding spot cautiously. He had been watching the Earthling for the better part of an hour and was surprised when she staggered into the room smelling heavily of alcohol. She was ill; he could sense the extent of her depression radiating from her being like an overpowering aura of Ki. The prince bent over and gently picked up the female in his arms, cradling her like a babe and carefully carrying her up to her bedroom. Once there, he set her on top of the comforter and pulled off her shoes, lightly draping the covers over her.

His son was still bellowing for contentment just down the hall and Vegeta turned automatically to tend to the toddler. As he approached the crib, the young Saiyan's screaming gradually lessened. Trunks stared at the stranger through eyes that matched his mother's and Vegeta felt himself becoming caught in their intense light. Then, quite suddenly, the two-year-old cooed in delight, arching his back and wriggling his arms in an unspoken demand to be picked up. The Saiyan Prince smirked in spite of himself, leaning over the edge of the bar and plucking the child from his bedding.

Trunks curled up immediately in his father's arms, smacking his lips and peering up at the short man for a long moment. Gradually, however, the little boy blinked tiredly and popped one tiny fist into his mouth, slurping noisily as he faded yet again into dreamland. Vegeta continued holding his son for several minutes more, and he wondered if Bulma had ever realized the number of times since the hybrid's birth that his sire had come in to cradle him back to sleep. Was she never curious at how steadily the infant had slept during his first few weeks of life?

Setting Trunks back inside the safety of his specially-made crib, Vegeta scoffed lightly. Bulma was never one to notice the intricacies of her life; unless, of course, they included some invention she was intensely focused upon. Other than that, she failed to note anything significant.

Vegeta strode down the corridor and back into the woman's room, moving closer to her bed and watching her sleep. She had dark circles beneath her eyes and her skin was paler than he remembered. Kakarrot had told him that she spent nearly every waking moment locked up in her lab nowadays, but he didn't really believe it until now.  
  
Deciding he had over-stayed his unintended welcome, the Saiyan turned to fly out the window and return to his training. He was stopped, however, when he caught a faint muttering coming from Bulma's lips. Curious, he moved back to her bedside and leaned his ear over her mouth. He was shocked by what she was saying.  
  
"Vegeta...I love you...you..."  
  
Changing his mind, Vegeta scooted onto the bed next to her and pulled Bulma securely into his muscular arms. She quickly settled into the protective grasp and her breathing became soft and steady, gradually lulling the Saiyan prince to sleep.

_When it's my unhappy anniversary,_

_  
But I'll lie, sayin' it's just another day...._

The next morning Bulma awoke, alone, with a hangover to rival any other. She leapt from her bed and only barely managed to throw up in her toilet, all the while vowing never to drink again. Her terrible headache was only worsened by Trunks' insistent wailing as he announced his desire to be fed. _So much like his father,_ she caught herself thinking wistfully, taking the child down to the kitchen. _At least I got through another year without him, but how many more until he comes back...?_  
  
She groaned and put a hand to her throbbing head, struggling with serving the small princeling his breakfast of oatmeal and banana slices. The boy had a fun time tossing the food around, very little of it actually managing to find its way to his mouth. Bulma forced a grin through her pain, popped two Advil and set about cleaning up her son's mess. Things were back to normal, it seemed.

_This is my unhappy anniversary,_

_  
But I smile,_

_  
Like it's just another day._

Vegeta stood outside the front door, debating whether to ring the doorbell or just burst right in. After last night, he knew that he couldn't leave the woman alone again, she was obviously not well. Despite all of his pride and stubbornness, even the Prince of the Saiyans knew what his priorities had to be. With the temporary peace of the world, he could let go of his guard - - if only just a little - - and be with his...family. He could train his heir and love his mate, and damn it all if that didn't seem like too bad of an idea!  
  
His decision made, Vegeta flew to the other side of the house, landing in front of the kitchen door and turning the knob.  
  
Bulma looked up from her newspaper and gasped when she saw the prince stride proudly into the breakfast nook. Her eyes welled up with happy, confused and amazed tears and she found herself quickly swept up into Vegeta's strong embrace. Her forehead rested against the thickness of his chest and she listened to his heartbeat for what seemed like an eternity of time.  
  
"Shhh..." he instructed gently, a smirk twisting up the corners of his mouth as he nicked her chin up to look him in the eye. "There's no more booze in the cabinet for you to drown your silly female emotions with. Why don't you just let me cheer you up?"  
  
"But...what about Trunks?" Bulma whispered back, once again hypnotized by his endless black pools.  
  
"He can take care of himself," assured Vegeta, unable to keep the hint of pride from his voice when he added, "After all, he is my son."  
  
"Ours...our son..." sighed the woman, burying her face into his ugly pink shirt.  
  
"Yes, our son," he agreed lightly, feeling for once that he could be strong in his weakness.  
  
Vegeta picked up Bulma then, as delicately as he had before, and flew her up to her...their...bedroom. It was then and there that he showed her how exactly much she meant to him, how much both she and Trunks meant to him.

_It's just my unhappy anniversary..._

_  
It's just my unhappy anniversary..._

_  
It's just my unhappy anniversary!_

_Maybe this anniversary isn't so bad,_ Bulma mused later, drifting to sleep within Vegeta's arms of soft steel.  
  
_I can't believe I was ready to give up all this - - her, my son - - just to satisfy my pride,_ the prince thought, tightening his arms around the human as though afraid she might suddenly disappear for good.  
  
"Woman, I promise you this: the next time I sacrifice something it will be for you and Trunks alone, not myself. From now on, you two are first," Vegeta murmured to her resting form. "I love you, Bulma. Though I may never say it to you again, I pray to your Kami that you will always know. Sleep well, my princess..."


End file.
